


(no place) like home

by concordances



Category: Golden Child (Korea Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-17 20:08:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28854834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/concordances/pseuds/concordances
Summary: Joochan thinks he’s a very subtle spy, but the whole building knows something’s up with him— he’s not exactly hiding with his bright pink hair and loud voice. Meanwhile, Sungyoon searches for proof. Donghyun has a secret, but it’s not what anyone would expect. Bomin is certain he can outsmart all his neighbours.With this many questionable individuals in the same apartment complex, things are bound to get interesting.
Relationships: Bong Jaehyun/Kim Jibeom, Hong Joochan/Kim Donghyun
Comments: 12
Kudos: 41
Collections: Golden Age Fic Fest





	(no place) like home

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Golden Age Fic Fest prompt #84: Joochan thinks he’s a very subtle spy, but the whole building knows something’s up with him- he’s not exactly hiding with his bright pink hair and loud voice.
> 
> Biggest thank you to Alice, for joining this fic fest and brainstorming with me, and the mods, who were incredibly patient despite my shortcomings. I very nearly dropped out, but pulled through thanks to all the support ;; Thank you as well to Reet for your sharp eye, and of course, my dear sibling who was responsible for converting me to Goldenness and helped me look everything over! To my anonymous prompter, I hope you enjoy this ♥

The apartment complex has a strict no-pet policy, but Jangjun is sure someone on the third floor is secretly housing a puppy. It all begins when he returns from a late-night workout and hears a faint, high-pitched bark coming from upstairs. From then, Jangjun vows to catch the culprit. He may not have made it into the Gyeonggi Metropolitan Police like his father, but there are few things hard work can’t accomplish, like one’s personal goal of petting every dog in the neighbourhood.

On Monday, a moving van signals the arrival of a new resident at the complex. Jangjun is temporarily distracted from his search, swept up in freshly-circulating rumours before he even lays eyes on the newcomer. “He’s a bit of a mystery,” Seungmin says, only serving to make Jangjun more curious than before because after one year, Jangjun still has no idea what Seungmin does for a living. “You’ll spot him a mile away.”

“He claims he’s an artist,” Jibeom deadpans. “So he’s definitely involved in something illegal. No way he’d make enough to afford an apartment otherwise.”

Frankly, it’s not the most far-fetched rumour Jangjun has heard within these walls. He expresses as much to Daeyeol when they’re in the first floor toilet together, going about their business side-by-side in the two narrow cubicles. It’s a routine they’ve perfected over the last few years, exchanging gossip where no one will overhear.

“I wonder if the new kid is covered in tattoos,” Jangjun says wistfully. “Or maybe he’s some sort of criminal. Do you remember that rumour about an assassin living in this building?”

There’s a prolonged silence. Jangjun is beginning to wonder if Daeyeol’s constipation has made a comeback when an unfamiliar voice speaks up from behind the partition. “Um,” it says. “I’m not covered in tattoos. I’m not a criminal, either.” There's a pause, before: “ _Is_ there an assassin living here?”

This is how Jangjun meets Hong Joochan, who graciously laughs the incident off after Jangjun assures him that their neighbourhood has the lowest crime rate in the district, even inviting Jangjun for drinks over the weekend. Joochan’s hair is dyed a bright pink and his smile is even brighter. The only time he seems to take a break from talking is when he’s eating. Donghyun takes one look at him and retreats back into his apartment, which is unfortunately right next door to Joochan’s.

“Anything else I should know about living here?” Joochan asks.

As a long-time resident, Jangjun knows the ins and outs of this place. He thinks back to the time a neighbour moved out after a mere four months with no explanation, to the small fire that once broke out on mysteriously the fifth floor. Last year, an outsider managed to bypass security and steal the ugly capybara statue on display in the lobby, but was arrested the same day despite having left no traces of evidence behind. All coincidences, of course.

“Nope,” Jangjun replies with a grin. “You’re going to love it here.”

After the second consecutive weekend of being awoken by a voice belting out Christmas tunes, Donghyun decides to do something about it. He’d been up till four in the morning hacking into the building’s security feed while simultaneously trying to raise his tier in Kartrider, sure, but not everyone is an early bird. He needs his eight hours of sleep, damn it.

Joochan answers his door with a clueless expression that makes Donghyun’s fingers twitch. He’s holding a box of fried chicken and his hair is tousled in a way that suggests he hasn’t washed it in two days. Donghyun resists the urge to take a step back.

“I can hear you singing in the morning,” Donghyun says, straight-to-the-point. “The walls here are thin.” It might not be the best way to make an impression on a new neighbour, but honesty is the best policy.

“Oh,” Joochan says, abashed. “I didn’t know. Sorry.” He looks down at his feet in shame. Donghyun takes advantage of this to peer into Joochan’s apartment over his shoulder. It’s no secret that their complex has seen an unusual number of questionable persons move in in recent years. If Joochan is some sort of spy like Sungyoon seems to suspect, he’s a very messy one.

“Can I make it up to you?” Joochan asks, hesitant. “Let me buy you dinner.” Donghyun’s eyes snap back to stare at him.

Several days later, Bomin leans against the outer wall of the apartment building, watching Donghyun sort his recyclables. “I can’t believe you’re going on a date with the new guy,” he laughs, far too amused for Donghyun’s liking. “Haven’t you heard the rumours?”

“It’s not a _date_ ,” Donghyun snaps. He would never go out with someone as loud and untidy as Hong Joochan. Even if he does have a nice face. “He’s even less intimidating than you. And you’re like, still in university.”

The smile doesn’t leave Bomin’s face. “I’m only a year younger than you, _hyung_.”

In truth, Donghyun had checked the security footage before handing it over to Sungyoon and found no evidence of suspicious activity. “I don’t know why you think a spy would be sneaking around at night,” Donghyun had told Sungyoon. “He might as well walk around wearing dark glasses and a trenchcoat.” _Or dye his hair bright pink_ , he’s tempted to add, but, well.

Sungyoon had merely smiled and paid him (cash, in full), cementing his place as Donghyun’s favourite.

Dinner with Joochan goes well, for the most part. Joochan spills his coke on Donghyun’s pants and apologises profusely, promising to buy him a second dinner to make up for it. At the second dinner, he asks Donghyun’s opinion on every chicken restaurant in the neighbourhood. He’s strangely charming. By the third dinner, Donghyun barely notices that Joochan sometimes talks with his mouth full.

They walk back to the complex together afterwards. Donghyun makes sure Joochan has disappeared into his own apartment before unlocking his door and welcoming the white puppy that runs over to greet him. “Aren’t you a good girl?” Donghyun murmurs, shutting the door behind him. Dadi is his one guilty pleasure, well-behaved enough that Donghyun doesn’t have to worry about being caught breaking rules. He settles down on the couch, Dadi in his lap, thoughts gravitating to his neighbour.

“He’s probably hiding something,” Donghyun sighs, running his fingers through Dadi’s soft fur. “No one around here is normal. Don’t you think?”

The same goes for almost every acquaintance Donghyun has made in this building, some with secrets more dangerous than others. Sungyoon is already on Joochan’s case. If Joochan is deemed harmless and accepted here, much like he was, there will be no problems. But if he’s not—

Donghyun wonders if Joochan has life insurance. Dadi licks his hand in response.

The day after Joochan moves in, Sungyoon receives intel that there’s an operative from a rival agency on the move— acting against their interests, threatening the peace of the community, blah blah blah. Every brief looks the same after a while. Sungyoon accidentally hits ‘terminate’ before reading it in full and has to scramble to retrieve the details afterwards. Thankfully, he’s not the only one assigned to the mission.

“We’re supposed to find out who they’re working for,” says the voice on the other end of the secure line, an agent from the same company Sungyoon knows only by codename. “It seems like they’ve been at large for a while. Maybe they’re really good at hiding?”

“Hold that thought,” Sungyoon says. “I have an idea of where to start looking.”

It’s rare to find a target this close to home— literally— but Joochan had moved in on an inauspicious day smack in the middle of the year, making it likely he was assigned at the last minute. He’s also the exact opposite of subtle. His fondness for Donghyun is clear as day, seeing as Joochan is constantly trailing after him, and Sungyoon learns to recognise the sound of Joochan’s laugh before they’ve properly met. Unfortunately, Sungyoon’s carefully cultivated plan to make a strong first impression and earn his trust is obliterated when he hears Joochan humming Jung Seunghwan’s _Wind_ and ends up sprinting across the hallway to ask Joochan’s favourite song.

So Joochan might be a suspect with superior taste in music, but that changes nothing. Sungyoon quickly figures out his greatest weakness— fried chicken, which Joochan always seems to be carrying a box of around with him— and treats him to a meal, tries to learn more to get a better read on him.

“So, like, what other places are there to eat around here?” Joochan asks as he shovels radish into his mouth. He has a bit of an obsession with food. Sungyoon tears his eyes away from their rapidly dwindling side-dishes to answer.

“Most of the good stuff is at least a train ride away.” Sungyoon is content to settle for small talk, biding his time until Joochan slips up. “You’ve probably seen the bakery down the road from the apartment. There isn’t much else nearby.”

Joochan nods, thoughtful. “You don’t like cucumbers,” he comments, gesturing to Sungyoon’s plate with his chopsticks. An astute observation, befitting of one with a trained eye. Joochan’s chopsticks hover in the air. “Can I have them?”

Sungyoon hands them over.

Trying to figure Joochan out is like fighting an uphill battle. There seems to be nothing suspicious about him, which is suspicious in itself, especially given the track record of their building’s residents. Joochan is also the only one who seems to _get_ him, even though they’re several years apart. Sungyoon’s frustration only grows when the footage Donghyun secures for him shows nothing out of the ordinary.

“Do you want some help?” the other agent asks hesitantly over the line. “Investigating this… suspicious person?”

“No,” Sungyoon says, grinding his teeth together because he hates losing, even if there’s no competition. He mentally runs through his options. “I have one more idea,” he says at last. “Just give me a couple more days.”

There’s nothing Jibeom dislikes more than waiting. University had been an exercise in patience, counting down the days until graduation. Hours of practicum and months of internships. Even as a working adult, there’s no escape from the monotonous routine of clocking in each morning to wait for the head dentist’s instructions, carrying out menial tasks and getting scolded for not positioning the saliva ejector optimally. Waiting for work to end. Waiting until he’s the one with _senior dentist_ on his nametag.

There’s no wait-time at the bakery Jibeom visits after work every day. For one, the pastries are usually stale. The other reason is that the service isn’t very good. All the same, there’s something endearing about the way Jaehyun diligently stacks cheese tarts on the tray so clearly labelled ‘blueberry muffins’, tongue peeking out of his mouth in concentration.

Jaehyun is at the cashier this evening. “Hi,” he says as he rings up Jibeom’s order— one of their specialty chocolate tarts that has something different iced on it each day. Yesterday, it was a crudely-squiggled _Smile!_ in yellow. Today, it’s a drawing of what looks like a dog. Jaehyun glances up, which makes Jibeom feel a little special, considering Jaehyun tends to avoid eye contact with customers. “You always get the same thing,” he observes. Another win, since Jaehyun rarely notices things. He lives in the same apartment complex as Jibeom and has never given any indication that he’s aware of this fact.

“Uh,” says Jibeom intelligently. “Yeah.” He feels like he’s been administered nitrous oxide, for once, instead of being the one administering it. He wonders if it would be inappropriate to ask for Jaehyun’s number. Instead, he asks: “What else would you recommend?”

Jaehyun looks around the shop. “I guess I like the milk bread,” he says. He shrugs. “But that doesn’t mean you will.”

“I’ll like anything you recommend,” Jibeom says.

Jaehyun blinks at him. Jibeom decides it’s time to leave.

He’s too embarrassed to return to the bakery the next day, or the next. But three days and the craving for a stale chocolate tart is strong. Jibeom grabs one from the shelf— there’s an iced heart on it today— doubling back for a milk bread before heading for the cashier.

“Oh,” Jaehyun says when he sees him. “I have something for you.” He reaches under the counter and procures a chocolate tart with something iced on top. Numbers. Jibeom stares, breath hitching in his throat, but there aren’t enough of them for it to be a phone number.

“I finally realised why you look so familiar,” Jaehyun confesses. “We live in the same apartment. I’ve seen you collect your mail.” He gestures at the tart on the counter. “That’s my unit number,” he explains.

He smiles, tentative. Jibeom’s heart melts a little, like plaque under toothpaste.

Daeyeol goes into real estate for the flexibility and good pay, but above all, because his brother is a real estate agent. When Daeyeol was younger, he wanted so much to be like his brother that he would steal his clothes, putting them on in the hopes of embodying some of his confidence and poise. His favourite was a gold bowtie he pinched from Sungyeol’s closet years ago, which he still occasionally wears for important events.

 _Beware of dangerous clients,_ Sungyeol texts him right before Daeyeol’s first big job. Daeyeol doesn’t know what that means— how dangerous could a client be? It’s only because of the warning that he does some digging into the company that reaches out to him, and he soon understands. The employee they’re trying to find an apartment for is an applied music instructor— on paper. Daeyeol is certain that’s not all he is.

 _A quiet place in a good neighbourhood,_ is the request. _Within walking distance of a station._ Daeyeol thinks carefully about it. What would be a good location for a _dangerous client_?

By the end of the month, Choi Sungyoon has moved into the apartment directly below his.

 _You’ve got guts,_ reads the text Daeyeol receives from his brother several days later, probably the biggest compliment Sungyeol has paid him in the past year apart from _Your soup tastes good enough to be store-bought_ and _I think you’ll eventually be taller than me_. Sungyeol isn’t always the best at expressing himself, but Daeyeol knows that deep down, he cares. And it’s simple, really. A dangerous person with a big secret would never draw attention to themselves, so Daeyeol figures the safest place to be would be close to them. Besides, it’s not like he plans to befriend the guy.

Naturally, this is exactly what happens.

“My job isn’t as glamorous as it seems,” Sungyoon divulges when they’re out drinking together one night. He doesn’t specify which job, but working at a university has never struck Daeyeol as particularly glamorous. That’s the most Sungyoon ever speaks of what he does. Under the artificial yellow lighting of the shop, he looks like a perfectly ordinary guy. Then again, so do the subsequent individuals Daeyeol helps move into the apartment complex— among them a hacker, a second employee from Sungyoon’s company, and a professional bodyguard.

They keep their professional and private lives separate until one day, Sungyoon comes knocking on Daeyeol’s door to ask about Joochan. “I need to know whether he works for… a company like mine,” Sungyoon explains. “Whether he’s receiving a regular income. Things like that.” He sounds a little desperate.

“Telling you all that would be a breach of privacy agreement,” Daeyeol says slowly.

“Yes,” Sungyoon says. “But—” He stops, looks like he’s carefully considering his next words. In the end, he’s known Daeyeol for almost five years now. There are few people who know Daeyeol better. “But we’re friends,” Sungyoon says.

Maybe somewhere, deep down, Daeyeol had known that gathering so many dangerous individuals in one place would eventually lead to trouble. After Sungyoon leaves, Daeyeol sends a quick, possibly over-dramatic text to his brother.

 _Everything I ever took from you is in the bottom drawer of my dresser,_ it reads. _If anything happens to me, you can have it all back._

 _I’d better see you at the next family dinner,_ comes Sungyeol’s reply barely five minutes later. _My bowtie looks much better on you._

“Hold the door!”

Youngtaek jolts at the voice, regaining his senses just in time to watch the lift doors close on the face of his handsome neighbour— Sungyoon. The ride to the ground floor is awkward. Youngtaek waits around in the lobby until Sungyoon emerges from the stairwell, his hair only slightly out of place. Their eyes meet.

“You’re Y,” Youngtaek blurts. That voice— Youngtaek has heard it countless times on the other end of a secure line. Today, it finally clicked. Sungyoon stares at him, eyes wide, and for a moment Youngtaek almost thinks he’s made a mistake.

“Tag?” Sungyoon ventures.

It feels strange being addressed in person by the codename assigned by their agency. They walk to the station together, morning commute in the same direction. “I can’t believe we’ve been neighbours this whole time,” Youngtaek laughs. “Why didn’t they tell us?”

Sungyoon makes a noise of agreement. “I guess it makes sense,” he says. “There are a lot of interesting people where we live.”

Youngtaek finds himself nodding vigorously. “Yeah, it’s a great location. Real quiet and convenient, though we could do with more restaurants in the area.” He stops dead in his tracks, something dawning on him. “Wait a minute. That suspicious person you’ve been investigating. Is it—”

Sungyoon catches his eye and nods.

They arrange to meet the same night at Sungyoon’s to exchange information. Youngtaek narrowly avoids a crisis when he opens his own door to make the walk across the hall to Sungyoon’s unit and finds himself face-to-face with a surprised Seungmin. Seungmin lowers his hand from where it’s hovering over the doorbell. In his other hand are the Ghibli DVDs Youngtaek had lent him the previous week.

“Hey, small fry,” Youngtaek teases, dodging Seungmin’s fist with practised ease. Seungmin glowers. “Where are you going?” Seungmin asks suspiciously.

“To the gym,” Youngtaek lies. “Hey, maybe if you work out, you’ll grow—” Seungmin is gone before Youngtaek can finish his sentence. Youngtaek breathes a sigh of relief.

The interior of Sungyoon’s apartment is standard fare for an agent— neat with just enough personality for it not to be _too_ ordinary. Sungyoon pours him a glass of red wine to complete the pretentious spy movie charade. “So Joochan _was_ assigned here by some company, but his bank records don’t look like an agent’s?” Youngtaek clarifies, after Sungyoon fills him in. “That’s not much to go on. Who’s your contact?”

“Daeyeol,” Sungyoon says stiffly. “He’s in real estate. He recommends this location to agencies, including ours.”

Youngtaek frowns. Daeyeol mostly keeps to himself, so Youngtaek doesn’t know him as well as some of the older residents like Sungyoon and Jangjun. Still, Sungyoon doesn’t seem like the type to let personal feelings get in the way of a job. “You could’ve hired someone to get the info if you didn’t want to do it yourself,” Youngtaek says. “Don’t we have an assassin living on the first floor?”

“Bomin isn’t an assassin,” Sungyoon says slowly. “He’s a history post-grad specialising in the late Joseon period. And he lives on the first floor because he’s scared of heights.”

“Oh,” Youngtaek feels himself deflate.

Sungyoon sighs. “Besides, drawing attention to ourselves is the last thing we want. We’ll have to find another way.”

“I could try talking to Daeyeol,” Youngtaek suggests.

Sungyoon’s look is sharp. “No,” he says. “You won’t.”

Sungyoon is Youngtaek’s senior in every respect— age, education, experience. He has better looks and a better temperament, two things training won’t earn you. But it sounds like Sungyoon has never had to go up against his friends. Youngtaek feels a smile tug at his lips. This is why he prefers working in Korea.

“Fine,” Youngtaek says. He’s been telling a lot of lies lately; another couldn’t hurt. “I won’t.”

Bomin slips out the back of the apartment at two minutes to ten. Everyone is fixated on trying to figure Joochan out, but they’re all going about it the wrong way. It’s not unlike the mistake they had made when Bomin moved in a year ago and everyone was clambering to find out if he was hiding some big secret. People can be surprisingly gullible when they let their guard down.

Joochan is a bit of an enigma, intentionally or not. The much easier solution would clearly be to go through Donghyun, who’s not only bad at lying, but also operates on a schedule like clockwork. At exactly ten o’ clock, he emerges from the building, garbage bags in hand.

Bomin waves. “How’s your budding romance with the new neighbour?”

“None of your business,” Donghyun huffs, throwing open the lid of the bottles bin with more force than is necessary. “What do you want?”

“So you don’t deny it’s a budding romance,” Bomin says.

“I deny it,” Donghyun says, ears already a deep shade of red. “Seriously, what do you want? If you’re bored, go bother Jaehyun. I’m busy.”

Bomin has, in fact, already done this— he’d managed to catch Jaehyun as he returned from work with Jibeom, something Bomin had made a mental note to look into. Talking to Jaehyun is the best; he always says outlandish things with a straight face and never loses his temper when teased. Unfortunately, Bomin’s personal investigation into the new neighbour’s secret had made no progress, because Jaehyun seems to have no idea who Joochan is.

“Doesn’t Joochan eat something like six meals a day?” Bomin presses, as Donghyun moves on to his plastics. Bomin hasn’t eaten with Joochan personally, but Jangjun and Daeyeol talk pretty loudly in the toilets. “How does he make enough to afford all that food?”

Donghyun’s fingers still momentarily, before he continues to unload his trash into the bin. “How should I know?” he asks, not looking up. “Do I look like his financial adviser?”

“Hm,” Bomin watches as Donghyun finishes discarding his non-recyclables and scurries back indoors. He thinks about all the bits of information he’d taken the pains to collect over the past few weeks. Joochan is definitely hiding something. But what?

Maybe he’s not a spy like some people seem to think he is, and has some other identity that he’s keeping a secret. Maybe he _is_ a spy, and is just so good at hiding it that the others can’t find any proof. Or maybe—

Bomin walks over to the general waste bin, gently lifting the lid to fish out the trash bag Donghyun had just discarded. He undoes the double knot with some difficulty and peers into the bag. Right at the top is a greasy, discarded chicken box, bright pink logo splayed across the front.

Maybe the truth is simpler than that.

Seungmin isn’t short, thank you very much. He’s just more down-to-earth than most. Making sure he has the ground covered, and all that. Always surrounded by tall people.

Okay, so he’s a little lacking in the height department. But he makes up for that with brute strength— he can pick a person up and throw them to the ground like it’s nothing. Even someone who’s almost a head taller than him, and probably trained in combat.

Someone like Youngtaek.

When Daeyeol offers Seungmin a job, Seungmin thinks he’s joking at first. Either that, or he’s overreacting. Seungmin certainly doesn’t expect trouble to come knocking the very next day, and right before dinner, no less. Youngtaek arrives on the sixth floor by lift and makes his way swiftly over to Daeyeol’s apartment, a rare serious look on his face. Seungmin checks his watch. He’d promised to meet Jibeom at the station at seven thirty, and Jibeom doesn’t like to be kept waiting.

“Hey,” Youngtaek says, no jokes or nicknames. “What are you doing here?”

“Nothing much,” is Seungmin’s casual reply. “Just my job.”

He can practically see the gears in Youngtaek’s head turning. Seungmin doesn’t _look_ anything like a bodyguard, he knows. To be fair, Seungmin doesn’t know exactly what Youngtaek does for spare income, either. Most of their conversation topics over dinner revolve around movies, basic Japanese vocabulary that Seungmin has been trying to pick up, and whether or not Jibeom will ever work up the courage to ask Jaehyun out.

“I need to talk to Daeyeol,” Youngtaek says.

“Daeyeol is busy,” Seungmin replies cooly. “Why don’t you try texting?”

Youngtaek looks at the ground, as if weighing his options. When he finally raises his head, his smile is wry. “You’re the last person I expected to have to fight,” he says. “You know. Especially since you’re so—” He gestures to Seungmin.

“Don’t,” Seungmin warns him.

“Cute,” Youngtaek finishes.

Youngtaek is fast, but hand-to-hand combat is Seungmin’s specialty. He’s faster. Unfortunately, Youngtaek’s shriek when Seungmin twists his arm behind his back and pins him down brings Jangjun— whose recent habit of loitering around the third floor landing has served no one well— running.

“What’s going on?” Jangjun exclaims as he bursts into the hallway, freezing when he sees them.

“Seungmin attacked me,” Youngtaek whines from beneath Seungmin, face pressed against the linoleum. He sounds a lot more like his regular self than the version of him from a minute ago, and though he would never admit it, Seungmin is relieved.

“He called me cute,” Seungmin tells Jangjun.

“Oh,” Jangjun says, clearly at a loss. “I see…”

Sungyoon shows up seconds later, emerging from the stairwell, eyes sweeping over them to take stock of the situation. Seungmin is pretty sure Sungyoon is in the same line of work as Youngtaek after Youngtaek lied about visiting his apartment, but the look Sungyoon shoots him says: _you’re on your own_.

Bomin is the next to appear, followed by Donghyun and Joochan, who have to tiptoe to get a proper view of the floor. By this point, the hallway is beginning to feel more than a little crowded. Daeyeol’s door remains resolutely shut.

Contractually, Seungmin is obligated to sit on Youngtaek until he’s certain that Youngtaek no longer poses a threat. “Listen,” Seungmin says, wondering how he can make the crowd disperse, but thinking on his feet isn’t his strong suit. It doesn’t help that everyone in this building is so damn _nosy_. “There’s nothing to see here, so—”

“You,” Youngtaek snarls at the crowd. It’s anyone’s guess who his words are directed at. Seungmin loosens his hold on Youngtaek’s left hand purely out of curiosity, and Youngtaek wrenches his arm out of Seungmin’s grip. “You,” Youngtaek repeats, pointing an accusing finger at Joochan. “What’s your deal?”

The hallway is silent. “Me?” Joochan asks.

Jangjun catches on a little too quickly, rounding on him as well. “You have no idea how many rumours there were about you when you moved in. Are you a spy?” For once, Seungmin is grateful for Jangjun’s lack of a real filter.

“S-spy?” Joochan stutters, shooting a glance at Donghyun. “Why would I be a spy?”

Jangjun narrows his eyes. “That sounds exactly like what a spy would say.”

“Who do you work for?” Sungyoon asks, playing along. “A security firm? Foreign intelligence?” He sounds only half like he’s joking.

Joochan seems to wilt under everyone’s gaze. “No!” he says. “No, I just…”

“He works for a chicken restaurant chain,” comes Bomin’s voice. The crowd parts to let him through. “That’s why you always have those boxes of chicken with you, isn’t it? I looked up the brand, and the closest restaurant doesn’t deliver anywhere near here. So you’re either paying to have it delivered specially, or you have some sort of arrangement with them.”

Seungmin can’t believe the drama writing itself in front of him. Youngtaek squirms beneath him, and Seungmin pinches his arm.

“There are at least five other chicken places that deliver to this neighbourhood,” Bomin continues. “And based on what I’ve heard, you’re not a fussy eater. So it has to be the latter. They’re supplying you with chicken, like payment.”

Joochan opens his mouth, as if to say something, then closes it again. Sungyoon’s eyes are round. Even Jangjun, for once, appears to be rendered speechless.

“The question is,” Bomin seems to pause for dramatic effect. “What are they paying you to do?”

Joochan loves the apartment his company moves him into from the moment he steps foot into the complex. It’s well-situated, the facilities are good, and the people seem friendly— what’s not to like? To top all that off, his neighbour is really cute, even if he’s always in a bad mood. Joochan has never been so enamoured with someone who would so bluntly tell him to _please stop talking for a while, seriously, you’re giving me a headache._

It takes a week for Joochan to discover that Donghyun is hiding a puppy in his apartment. It takes two weeks to figure out Bomin is the supposed assassin in their building, and that he started that rumour himself. Everyone living here is so interesting. Apart from accommodation, it’s also nice not to have to worry too much about paying for food. Selling minimalist paintings to your sister’s friends can only get you so far, after all.

Joochan starts small, getting to know his new residence and its inhabitants. Then he grows bolder, asking for dinner recommendations and opinions on different brands of chicken. No one seems to suspect a thing, probably because Joochan has earned himself the reputation of fastest eater and biggest food enthusiast around. This job is perfect for him.

“Hey,” Donghyun says, several weeks after Joochan moves in. “What is it you really do?”

They’re sitting on his couch on a weekend, watching dramas while snacking on the chicken Joochan had brought over. Something about an apartment complex being overrun by man-eating monsters. Joochan has kept his eyes closed through a solid third of it. Occasionally, he or Donghyun will start a conversation to distract themselves from the ominous music that plays whenever a character starts sneaking around in the dark.

There’s a lot of personality beneath Donghyun’s prickly exterior. After persistent pestering, Joochan learns that his favourite food is cereal, for example. Donghyun has a degree in interior design because it’s his dream to one day build his own home. He doesn’t take kindly to any form of mess, but Dadi can do no wrong.

It’s probably because of the effort Joochan puts into getting to know him that Donghyun starts noticing things about Joochan, too.

“What do you mean?” Joochan laughs, hoping that any nervousness in his voice will be dismissed as a result of all the blood onscreen. “You already know what I do. I’m—”

“Not that,” Donghyun says, turning to look at him. “What _else_ do you do?”

Joochan sweats.

He doesn’t have much faith in his own ability to lie to someone he considers a friend. Technically, he won’t be going against the terms of his contract as long as he isn’t too specific. But more importantly, Donghyun has always made it a point to be honest with him— it would feel unfair not to return the favour.

“I’ll tell you,” Joochan says. “If you promise not to tell anyone.”

Donghyun sighs. “Fine. I promise.”

Onscreen, a monster leaps out of the shadows. Joochan tells Donghyun the truth.

“Oh,” Donghyun says, once Joochan has spoken his piece, from start to finish. “Is that it?” He doesn’t look disappointed, though. For some reason, he looks relieved.

“Is that it?” Joochan echoes, confused. He had thought it was a decent-sized secret, but maybe it doesn’t measure up to others Donghyun has heard. Joochan remembers how excited he had been when the company first reached out to him for the job, after he had depleted a significant proportion of stock at one of their restaurant outlets and almost been kicked out. They were relatively new to the chicken restaurant scene and, from the looks of it, no more than a year away from permanent closure if business didn’t take off. It was a shame— their chicken was good. Crispy and flavourful without being too oily. Joochan had never imagined he would be scouted by a company that would pay him in fried chicken. Like most boys, his only noteworthy childhood dream had been to be Iron Man.

“Prospective business specialist?” Joochan asks, looking down at his contract.

“Your task is to communicate with residents in the neighbourhood, gather information about their demographic and needs,” the HR representative explains, the bright pink of her lipstick mesmerising. “The company has their eye on the area, but they’ll only open a chain there if the business venture is projected to be a success. They need information to make that prediction. That’s where you’ll come in.”

“So I’m basically a spy,” Joochan says.

“No,” says the HR representative. “Well, actually,” she takes a measured breath before continuing. “You can think of it that way, if you want. The most important thing is to keep the company’s name out of what you’re doing, especially when it comes to collecting information. Just be as subtle about it as possible.”

“Subtle?” Joochan says. This really is the perfect job for him. “I’m good at subtle.”

Jaehyun isn’t supposed to use his phone during work hours, but it’s natural instinct to fish it out of his pocket when it buzzes with an incoming message. There are no customers in the bakery tonight, anyway.

It’s an update from his other job— the one he’s not supposed to talk about— which means it’s probably important. Jaehyun skims the brief. Something about _counterintelligence_ , _compromised_ , and _two operatives on your trail_. There are two low resolution photos attached, accompanied by brief descriptions. The first is labelled, _Codename: Y_. The second, _Codename: Tag_.

Jaehyun squints at the photos. He always takes the necessary measures to cover his tracks, but complacency can mean one’s downfall, as they say, so he’ll need to be more careful. These two agents look a little familiar. Or it could just be Jaehyun’s imagination.

 _Please acknowledge and provide update_ , says the last line.

The bell above the door jingles as someone enters the bakery, and Jaehyun nearly drops his phone. It’s Jibeom, who looks a little frazzled, forehead beaded with sweat and tie loosened, but as handsome as ever. Jaehyun glances at the clock. It’s later than he usually visits after work. “Long day?” Jaehyun tries.

“I was supposed to meet Seungmin for dinner, but he ditched me,” Jibeom explains. “I waited at the station for half an hour.” He pauses. “Wanna go somewhere when you’re done?”

“Like a date?” Jaehyun asks.

Jibeom goes still. Jaehyun is about to apologise for making assumptions when Jibeom speaks up. “Yeah,” he says. “Like a— yeah. Definitely. A date.” He looks at Jaehyun shyly.

The sun has already set, but Jaehyun’s day just got a lot better. “Where should we go?” he asks.

“I could really go for some chicken,” Jibeom admits. “It sucks that there isn’t a restaurant around here. We could go to the one at the next station.”

“I was just about to close the shop,” Jaehyun glances quickly at the clock a second time. It’s a bit early, but it’s unlikely to affect sales. “We can go right now.”

“Really?” Jibeom looks surprised.

“Yeah,” Jaehyun checks the post-it note he’d stuck behind the register that contains reminders of all the things he needs to do to avoid getting scolded by his manager. Put all the baked goods away, take off his apron, turn off the lights, lock the door. Jaehyun is looking forward to wrapping up this job for the day.

His other job can wait.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is packed with easter eggs/references for fellow Ness, let me know if you noticed any! c:
> 
> Thank you for reading!!


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